4.11.2009

A Hare-Raising Story

That old tale of Murphy the Easter bunny ...

I bought Murphy the Rabbit for my wife last year just before Easter.

That Murphy made it a full year with us is a great achievement in a house where the average pet fish lasts about three months. To tell the truth, I never really expected my wife to take care of the rabbit even if, theoretically, it was hers.

Every Easter for the six years we’ve been married, Dawn has talked about getting a pet rabbit like the little white bunny she had as a child. Another dependent was just what I needed. Of course, my wife, clever English teacher that she is, had her arguments all ready. This rabbit would save us money.

“If we got a bunny, we could keep it in fat Libby’s (our dog’s) old crate,” she reasoned. “Anyway, the crate’s just rusting away in the garage, so we wouldn’t have to buy anything new - except the rabbit and some food.”

That is the usual selling point of everything w: buy: Once bought we are done paying. It never works out that way, though.

In the pet store my wife told me, “I tested all the bunnies like we did the dog. You know, make a little noise and see which one sneaks up to investigate. This brown one here looks like Murphy.”

This Murphy had milk chocolate fluff for fur and looked as if it had been somewhere it shouldn’t have, because the tips of its fur were a smoky, dirty gray.

“Why not get a traditional white bunny? They’re the kind that deliver the eggs -and the chocolates,” I suggested. The look in her eyes told me it was not a discussion. This was Murphy.